He aligned the elements in his mind, then he pronounced them crisply so that the first spot of heat would appear right under the bear's rear paws.
The animal growled, then leaped to one side in an ungainly bound. It peered suspiciously at its feet, but Aubrey was ready. He repeated the spell with different locational coordinates and the bear lumbered forward again, huffing as it shuffled away from the hot spot.
Aubrey was aware that Caroline was watching him closely. George inched around the bench while the bear was distracted. 'I'll slam the door if you can get him outside,' he said.
The bear sniffed, trying to find what was tormenting it. Aubrey snapped out the spell twice in quick succession and felt a surge of dizziness. He ignored it and the bear dropped into a rolling waddle.
That's right, Aubrey thought as the beast came closer to the open door. Keep going that way and I won't have to do it again.
The bear reached the door, then it shied away, turning its massive body around.
No you don't, thought Aubrey, and he cast the spell again, with a little extra in the element for intensity. One good jolt might be enough.
A teeth-jarring thump and clouds of oily smoke exploded into the air. 'Who set the oil sump on fire?' Gabriel shouted, then Aubrey lost sight of him.
The bear disappeared in the roiling billows, roaring its displeasure. The door vanished. The workbenches and eventually the dirigible were swallowed up. Overhead, the electric lights struggled with the smoke and looked like tired suns.
Coughing, eyes streaming, Aubrey dropped to the floor, looking for sweet air. He heard curses and crashes and the sound of a frightened animal looking for a way out of this hellish place. He peered about frantically, trying to see if the bear was near, but even though the air was clear near the concrete floor, he couldn't see far.
Then, with a start, he realised he wasn't smelling anything.
The smoke, he thought. It should be biting, acrid, awfulsmelling. He took a deep sniff but nothing came to him. His senses were failing, and he rested his forehead against the cool concrete in despair.
A hand touched his and he jumped. 'It's me,' whispered Caroline. She crouched at his side. She had a handkerchief tied over her mouth and nose. 'The scaffolding is about twenty yards over there.'
'Have you seen George?' Aubrey knelt, like a sprinter ready to run. The smoke made his eyes stream, and he dashed the tears away with the back of his hand.
'He went in that direction.'
More roaring came through the smoke, and this time it was followed by screams of pain.
Slowly, they moved away from the sound of the bear. Soon, Aubrey's outstretched fingers found metal. With relief, he grasped the uprights of the scaffolding surrounding the dirigible. 'Here,' he whispered.
He held out his hand to Caroline and felt a thrill when she took it. He guided her to the scaffolding and they climbed to the heights, where the smoke was eyestingingly thick. Aubrey's throat felt as if it had been rubbed with coarse sandpaper, but he still couldn't smell anything at all. His deterioration was accelerating.
The scaffolding enclosed a catwalk that ran around the entire construction. Aubrey was close enough to the skeleton of the dirigible that he could touch it. Through the smoke it could have been the remains of a fairytale castle, great towers and turrets thrusting through the mist.
Aubrey felt the movement of air on his face. 'Good man.'
'What is it?'
'George has opened the hangar doors. Now, we need to open the other end to get some real air flow. The smoke won't go until we do.'
'Follow me.' She saw Aubrey's expression. 'I have a better sense of direction than you do.'
Harsh, but fair, he thought. 'Lead away.'
Caroline moved in a half-crouch, gracefully slipping along the catwalk. Aubrey endeavoured not to clang along the iron grating, but he was sure that anyone near would be able to track their movements.
Caroline stopped, crouched even lower, and held up a hand.
He drew close. 'What is it?'
'I saw someone ahead. In the construction area.'
Aubrey chewed his lip. Workers wouldn't be here this late. Inspectors of some sort? Wouldn't they be raising a hue and cry? Perhaps Saltin had somehow managed to make his way through the belly of the dirigible.
Suddenly, blinding white light erupted from up ahead, followed by a thumping blast and a wave of heat. The whole hangar shook with the explosion. The scaffolding swayed dangerously. Somewhere, glass shattered. Crashes and the groans of crumpling girders rippled through the smoke. Aubrey was nearly thrown from the catwalk but clutched at a strut with both hands. He hung, gasping. Purple flashes bounced in front of his eyes, but he felt no taint of magic. It was a chemical explosive, but no less devastating.
He dangled, trying to get his breath back, and saw Caroline stretched out on the catwalk nearby. He was about to cry out when she slipped to her feet and dragged him up. He stood and gripped the scaffolding, unwilling to let go completely.
'What was that?' he shouted to Caroline. As he did, a flat crack sounded from the far side of the hangar. His hands went numb, and he heard a sharp ringing. He hissed and let go of the scaffolding, shaking his hands.
He stared at the pipe. A dent and a long, bright streak showed where a bullet had barely missed him.
Caroline moved her head from left to right, peering through the smoke, which was now denser than ever. 'What –'
She didn't have a chance to finish her question, because Aubrey clapped his hand over her mouth, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled them both down.
Just before they hit the catwalk, he felt her body twist so that he'd land first. He also felt his thumb seized, twisted and bent to the point of breaking, while her knuckle rested just over a pressure point at the base of his throat.
They landed. He grunted at the bright pain from his hip, which took most of the fall. He stifled a yelp and pleaded with his eyes for silence as a bullet passed through the space they'd previously occupied. It ricocheted, whining, from a girder.
He lay there, half-stunned, with Caroline on top of him. It was a situation he'd dreamed of, but he was in no condition to enjoy. She released her grip. She wriggled to one side and put her mouth close to his ear. 'Sorry. I thought you'd gone mad and were attacking me.' Her eyes darted. 'A marksman?'
Her breath tickled, but it was a sensation he was prepared to endure. He turned to see her face close to his. He swallowed, then whispered. 'At least one.'
He pulled back and, in the middle of smoke, shooting and a runaway bear, he took an instant to gaze at her face.
She was beautiful, he knew that, but she carried it with an air of such self-possession, such breathtaking intelligence and competence that it became almost secondary. Almost. She was such a pleasure to behold that he always – always – had trouble not staring.
'What are you looking at?' she whispered.
He shook his head. He knew it wasn't an answer, but it would do for now. From below came shouts. Aubrey hoped the poor bear had escaped to the open air rather than been shot.
Air movement on his face made him grin. Smoke streamed past and the hangar started to clear. The ribs of the dirigible emerged and Aubrey had his first opportunity to see the havoc that had been wrought by the explosion.
The entire front quarter of the frame had been wrecked. The ribs had collapsed, half-melted and twisted by heat. The exquisite proportions of the dirigible were now a mess. Months of work had been destroyed.
'Saboteurs.' Aubrey wondered what this would mean to the Gallian dirigible program.
'Now is the time to go. You can mourn later.'
She took his arm and hurried him down the catwalk toward the open hangar doors. A motor started up, while more shouts came from behind them. Aubrey hunched his shoulders but no shots came their way.
Reaching the gap where the scaffolding had been destroyed by the blast, Caroline swung down, while Aubrey went more slowly, unsure of his balance,
feeling the strain on his shoulders and elbows.
Caroline landed like a cat. She grinned with fierce exhilaration. 'Follow me,' she said. 'Try to keep up.'
'I'll do my best.'
A shot snapped past overhead, close enough for Aubrey to hear it hum. 'That may be wise,' Caroline said and she was off.
Even if Aubrey had been in tiptop condition, he would have struggled. Caroline vaulted over a twisted girder, leaped across a stretch of shattered concrete and then slid on her back under a tangle of scaffolding that had fallen from overhead – and all without seeming to slow down.
Aubrey followed doggedly, with less speed and definitely less grace. Caroline waited for him, unsnagging his jacket from a bundle of ragged wires that projected from the scaffolding. 'Which way?' Aubrey panted as she helped him to his feet. Ahead was a snarl of sheet metal and timber that had once been the roof.
'To the left.'
A volley of arms fire came from behind them. For a few seconds, the hangar was a riot of ricochets, shouts and running feet. A bullet screamed off a steel support nearby, sending sparks leaping.
'To the left it is.'
Caroline danced along an inclined beam then used a heavy metal pipe to lever aside a mass of splintered plywood that towered head high. Aubrey joined her and leant his weight to the pipe. They forced the plywood aside and there, only yards away, were the giant hangar doors, open to the night and fresh air.
Caroline gripped the pipe. 'Quickly. You first.'
Aubrey shook his head. More arms fire sounded, but it seemed to be moving away from them. 'No. You go.'
Caroline grinned. 'Right,' she said, and she was off.
Aubrey blinked. He'd been expecting an argument.
Then, without Caroline's weight, the pipe jerked upwards. Aubrey realised he was on the wrong end of the lever, with hundreds of pounds of timber on the other end. He let go just in time to stop it snapping upwards and breaking his jaw. The plywood crashed to the ground, sending dust flying.
Hoarse shouts responded and suddenly the gunfire was definitely aimed in his direction. Crouching as best he could, Aubrey scrambled over the top of the plywood, the whole jumble shifting and moving underneath him as he went. For one sickening instant he thought it was going to give way and he'd be trapped, but he skated the last few yards and rolled off just as the sheets collapsed, collapsing with a crunch that made Aubrey flinch.
He came to his feet to see Caroline waiting at the door. 'What took you so long?'
Aubrey jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'I wanted to make sure it'd be hard to follow.'
'I see.' Caroline frowned. 'You're bleeding.'
Aubrey stared stupidly at his hand. A line of red dripped from the base of his thumb. 'I must have sliced it on the timber.'
'No time to worry about that now,' Caroline said. She took his other hand and pulled him through the doorway.
A lorry was waiting for them at the hangar door, motor turning over. 'All aboard,' George called. 'If you'd like a lift, that is.'
Caroline leapt into the cabin. Aubrey followed. 'George, you're a lifesaver.'
'One of my many talents.' The wheels spun and the lorry shot forward. 'Now, where to?'
'Somewhere a long way from bears, fanatics and exploding airships,' Caroline said, but her eyes were bright with excitement.
'Seconded,' Aubrey said fervently and the lorry hurtled toward the gate.
George was driving without headlights. He squinted, concentrating on the gravel road. 'They have many bears in Lutetia, do they, Aubrey?' he shouted over the screaming motor.
'Not that I know of. Caroline?'
'I've never heard of any.'
George grunted and changed gear. 'Didn't think so.' The lorry skidded on gravel as they rounded a shed and headed for the gate. 'That'll be another mystery then.'
Aubrey didn't answer. He saw a figure sprinting toward them from between two sheds. He didn't have time to cry out a warning before the man threw himself at the lorry. With a thump, he struck the door right next to Aubrey and clung, holding the mirror, scrambling until his feet found the running board. Aubrey was about to shove the stranger away when he recognised the frightened, angry face.
'Von Stralick!' Aubrey cried. 'What are you doing here?'
'Drive! Drive!' The Holmlander was pale. 'They have rifles. They tried to kill you – and me.'
It was enough for George. He accelerated, ignoring potholes, and aimed straight for the gate.
'Who tried to kill you?' Aubrey shouted above the protesting of the lorry. 'The Sons of Victor?'
Von Stralick gripped the window and the mirror, squinting through the wind, his shoulders hunched – fearing a marksman, Aubrey guessed. 'No! Holmlanders!'
Aubrey stared at the flaming ruins of the hangar. Holmlanders trying to kill Holmlanders? Sabotage? He shook his head. What had begun as a tangle had grown into a mess – and it had every indication of becoming an all-encompassing nightmare.
Ahead, the lights of Lutetia burned sullenly, making the city look brooding and fretful in the night.
Ten
THEY REACHED THE STREETS OF LUTETIA IN THE SMALL hours of the day. A few cabs were edging their way through the darkness, hooves making hollow echoes on the cobblestones. The city was sleeping, but Aubrey imagined that the dreams were uneasy, filled with a sense of loss and longing.
Aubrey was worried to see a distinctive series of posters slapped onto buildings. They stood out from those advertising cabarets and wines. Crudely done, with slashes of red and black, all were promising doom: 'We are Lost!', 'Prepare for the End!', 'There is no Hope!'. Aubrey saw dozens of them, all insisting that disaster was just around the corner for Lutetia.
Despite the lack of traffic, George drove the lorry slowly, taking care because of the noisy motor. They trundled through the boulevards and wide thoroughfares, worming their way through the suburbs. Von Stralick huddled in the back of the lorry, having found it more comfortable than clinging to the side of the vehicle.
He'd given Aubrey much to think about. The Holmlander's revelation that his countrymen had been responsible for the shooting in the hangar made little sense. If they were Holmlanders, why had they been shooting at von Stralick? If they weren't, what sort of a double-game was he playing, blaming the shooting on his compatriots?
Aubrey sat in the cabin of the lorry, brooding, even after Caroline had helped him bind a handkerchief around the slash on his thumb, which bled steadily.
On top of the possible Holmland link, Aubrey could add a soul-stealing photographer, a mysterious ornithologist, a rampaging bear, unknown Marchmainers wanting his grandmother's letters, a missing artefact that possibly held the fate of the Gallian nation, and hordes of villains, troublemakers and blackguards who were busy stirring up mischief to ensure the Giraud government would fall.
A meal fit for a king, he thought sourly, and winced when he remembered he should add Bertie's quest to the menu. Of course, if he were being selfish, he could also include the puzzle of his own condition and how best to restore it.
They drew close to the centre of the city, crossing St Cyr Bridge. A thump came on the cabin roof. 'Stop here!' von Stralick said. George rolled the lorry to a halt under a street light, but left the motor running.
Aubrey's sense of smell that told him where they were. 'The fish market? Why do you want to stop here? And don't you have some explanations for us?'
A squat red-brick façade stood in front of them. The sculptures of two jaunty-looking halibut loomed over the wide doorway, but the entrance was shut. However, a steady stream of rubber-booted and macintoshed men made its way to the rear of the building. Most of them were carrying boxes of shining fish.
Von Stralick leapt from the back of the lorry. 'No time for that. I must go. But beware of Holmlanders in Lutetia. Some very bad men are here.'
With that counsel, he was away and down the alley.
Caroline leaned out of the window of the lorry and watched the spy's progress. 'D
o you want me to see where he goes?'
'He's probably well away already,' Aubrey said. 'I'll wager he had a boat waiting for him on the other side of the market, where it banks on the river.'
'And where are we going?' she asked.
'Well, we should take you home,' George said. 'It's late.'
'It may be late, but what have we achieved? Isn't there anything more we can do?'
Aubrey considered this. 'George, let's drive by the Academy of Sciences. I'd like to see what's happening there.'
THE STREET WAS BLOCKED A GOOD FIFTY YARDS FROM THE Academy of Sciences. And, in a miracle of efficiency, the whole building had been fenced off. Scaffolding enclosed the place, while dozens of large tarpaulins were being draped from gables. It was difficult to see whether the Academy had faded any more or had regained its solidity. Scores of police were present, despite the early hour, but they appeared aimless and uncertain in the face of the phenomenon. Lamp posts on the other side of the street were the gathering point for many of them, and they dedicated themselves to smoking.
Aubrey was very interested to see a number of people who were clearly not police. Their uniforms were different – flat, shapeless caps, no trimmings on the shoulders of their dark-green jackets – but they didn't look like army personnel. They moved around the site in pairs, pausing often to crouch and touch the ground.
Inspector Paul was just outside the hastily constructed wooden hoardings. His harried expression was illuminated by gaslight. Two burly constables were with him, standing either side of a nervous-looking man.
A wild bellowing jerked Aubrey's attention away from the Academy of Sciences. He stared, astonished, along Fortitude Street. For a moment he wondered if he had fallen asleep and were dreaming.
An enormous bull was galloping toward them. It was at least six feet tall at the shoulder, with a dark, shaggy hide and huge, forward-pointing horns. It thundered past the lorry and then, without slowing, it charged the police officers who were strung across the road.
Heart of Gold Page 17